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Most likely in a testament to some personal fortitude, I often find that I can look back on horrible experiences or times of duress...with some fondness.
I mean, it doesn’t happen right away, but the gamut of experience infuses me with an appreciation for a time of crisis, most often after some reasonable time has expired.
I can’t say why this is and I’m largely thinking (er, typing) out loud, but there you have it.
“A grace note is a kind of music notation used to denote several kinds of musical ornaments. When occurring by itself, a single grace note normally indicates the intention of either an appoggiatura or an acciaccatura. When they occur in groups, grace notes can be interpreted to indicate any of several different classes of ornamentation, depending on interpretation...
...The term grace note is sometimes colloquially used in a metaphorical sense to indicate concerns which are of secondary importance to that which is of primary concern. For example, in planning a banquet, one might consider the decision of the color of napkins to be used to be a 'grace note' in relation to deciding the courses that would be offered on the menu.”
I’m having conversations with my Dad lately despite the fact that he passed away three years ago last week. I imagine catching up and filling him in on world events and the like. On my mom and her health and the dog he adored that now lives with me.
It’s cruelly ironic that when he was actually around, sometimes weeks would go by before I’d pick up the phone for a hello. He’d say, ‘Where have you BEEN—I was worried!” And I’d say, “Oh, I’m FINE...why would you WORRY?!”
“When you’re a parent,” he’d say often, “you’ll understand.”
“Ghost notes are musical notes occurring in a rhythmic figure which are purposely deemphasized, often nearly to the point of silence.”
The musical equivalent of a lost tooth for example, your tongue repeatedly flicking at its absence.
I’ve long been aware that absences have shapes—the loss or the distance becoming a companion. That absence is SOMEthing. A tangible intangible, maybe.
If you’re fortunate to live a long life, one of connections and entanglements, real or perceived—their departures announce themselves with tiresome frequency. Yet, SOMEthing remains. And we replay it over and over.
“Ghost notes, however, are not simply the unaccented notes in a pattern. The unaccented notes in such a pattern as a clave are considered to represent the mean level of emphasis--they are neither absolutely emphasized nor unemphasized. If one further deemphasizes one of these unaccented notes to the same or a similar extent to which the accented notes in the pattern are emphasized, then one has 'ghosted' that note.
In a case in which a ghost note is deemphasized to the point of silence, that note then represents a rhythmic placeholder in much the same way as does a rest. This can be a very fine distinction, and the ability of an instrumentalist to differentiate between what is a ghost note and what is a rest is governed largely by the acoustic nature of the instrument.”
...our Crosley Turntable Giveaway has ended. Thanks to all who entered!
What would our 33-1/3 Days of Vinyl Giveaways be without something to play those new records on? Well, happily we don’t need to ponder that dire scenario because our friends at Crosley Radio have offered TVD the brand new CR6007A Tech Turntable to give away as part of our 33-1/3 series of LP Giveaways!
The official info: Blast into the vinyl preservation revolution with the CR6007A Tech Turntable. Simply plug in a USB or SD card to transfer music from your records, giving you the flexibility to put the digital tunes on CDs or your MP3 player. The tech turntable’s playback feature can also be used to listen to prerecorded MP3 files. This Crosley turntable even features a PAR (portable audio ready) hookup for MP3 players, and an analog AM/FM radio for more listening enjoyment.
The CR6007A Tech features: USB/SD Encoding • USB/SD Card Reader • Belt Driven Turntable Mechanism • Plays 3 Speeds - 33 1/3, 45 & 78 RPM Records • Plays 7", 10" and 12" Records • Portable Audio Ready – Simply Plug in Your Portable Audio Device or MP3 Player • LCD Display • AM/FM Radio • Analog Tuner • External FM Antenna • Dynamic Full Range Stereo Speakers • Auxiliary Input • Auxiliary Output • Headphone Jack • Wood Style Cabinet • Remote Control
We’ll be sponsoring the contest to win the Crosley CR6007A Tech Turntable throughout the final 33-1/3 days of Summer 2009. To win, all you need to do is capture our attention in the comments to this post, and on 9/21 we’ll choose one lucky winner from the many witty and intellectual comments we’re certain to receive. (We’re optimists.)
So, make ‘em good. We’ll see ya back here on 9/21 when we choose our winner!
(...and many thanks to Crosley for their generous support!)
Oh sure, perhaps it's a return to summer with this morning's weather but don't be fooled - Fall looms and arrives this time next week. But we're going out on a high with our very LAST Vinyl Giveaway for the Last 33-1/3 Days of Summer!
ONE winner will receive:
...how's that for a finale?
Do whatcha' gotta do in the comments to this post (with contact info, please!) and we'll award one winner all three LP's to close out our series of contests. We're shutting the doors on summer and these giveaways next Monday (9/21) so get crackin'. Like Fall is.
Our Friday Ten operates as a less than subtle reminder to join TVD this evening at The Writer’s Center in Bethesda for the commencement of the Story/Stereo series.
We’d like to thank its curators Chad Clark of Beauty Pill and Matt Byars of The Caribbean for lending their sensibilities to the blog this week and Roofwalkers for just about everything else in between.
Like you didn’t see this Friday theme coming from a mile away:
If there’s any justice in the world, Emily Easterly will soon be a big star, and if you’re from DC and inclined to make the drive to NYC, you’ll be rewarded with an intimate gig at The Living Room and years of saying, ‘Y’know, I once saw her in this intimate club...etc., etc., etc.”
Now, let's see some justice prevail.
Emily, what’s the scoop on Saturday?
"I recently went back into the studio (Galuminum Foil Studios in Williamsburg, Brooklyn) with the idea of recording two new songs to be released as a single. The “A side” if you will, is called “The Only Two On Earth” and was loosely inspired by the Cormac McCarthy book, The Road. Since we were recording a single and not a whole record, Chris Cubeta, who produced the single as well as my last full length release, 'Heart Comma Heart,' thought it would be cool to take the song in a different direction sonically. So, the track came out with a lot of cool drums sounds, drum overdubs and even a little synth part! I am super excited to share this track with people!
As for the single release, I will be doing a big show at The Living Room in New York on September 19th. For attendees, I will be handing out a free, limited edition copy of the new single with a handmade CD sleeve. The “B side” to the single is called “Montreal”. The new songs will also be available for free download on my website, after the show. I’ve been rehearsing with my band for the past couple weeks for this show and I’m super excited about it! We will be performing the new song, “The Only Two On Earth” for the first time live as well as covering one of my favorite Sparklehorse songs, “Cow”.
The Living Room is one of my favorite venues in New York. The sound is great, there’s a piano and the last time I was there, I saw Sean Lennon and his girlfriend trying to read each other’s minds by pressing their foreheads together in silence. What more could you ask for?"
Our special Story/Stereo event continues with more Roofwalkers. This morning we hear from the band's bassist, Chris Licciardi, with tales of teen angst and musical epiphanies. (Oh, like YOU never had any.)
"When I was in high school and my brother was in college and far from home, he told me about a band called The Modern Lovers. It was during one of those afternoon calls when he had probably just woken up from whatever college debauchery he was doing the night before, and I had just gotten home from school. These calls didn't happen all that often: usually every other month or so when he was broke. I would run to beat my parents to the phone, hollering "I got it, I got it!" I know my parents liked it that my brother and I got along so well, but they probably also liked the reprieve from being asked for money, so the competition to say hello probably wasn't as tough as it felt.
My brother has a way with words when talking about music. In a matter of minutes, he could (and still can) describe a band in such a way that I would have to go check it out. Conversely, I was often crushed to learn that a band I had been listening to for the past few weeks was a "load of shit" and "a total rip-off of ...". He'd mention bands like Sonic Youth or The Kinks and told me stop listening to the 3rd Oasis album.
This particular phone call was short. I remember this because of the cryptic nature of his description of The Modern Lovers. Ben was never cryptic about bands; he was always long-winded (and still is). He told me that the first album was the best; I don't remember what the justification for this was, but I bought it on his recommendation. He told me to listen to "Pablo Picasso".
So a week later I threw my backpack on the floor of my bedroom, unwrapped the newly purchased CD, put it in my boombox, and went straight to track four. Laying there, listening to "Pablo Picasso", I have to admit I wasn't sure what to make of the singer's head-cold vocals. Was this a joke? Had my brother been testing me? Why the hell did I waste my 16 bucks on this music? I mean, there were some cool guitar parts and, yeah, even at that age, I noticed they sounded a bit like the Velvet Underground, but Lou Reed exuded confidence and a coolness that Jonathan Richman only seemed to hint at.
Perhaps my brother had led me astray.
Song Seven: "She Cracked"
Now this was more like it! Pulsing and edgy, on the verge of falling apart, and Richman sounded like he was completely wasted. The guitars and drums were driving, and the chorus of Modern Lovers' voices jumping in was just right. The break made me want to bounce around the room and play air guitar. This Jonathan Richman guy could even say, "All right" at the end of a chorus without sounding like a dick. When I paid attention to the lyrics, though, I realized Jonathan wasn't your average doped-up rocker, which made him even more relatable. Most of my friends messed around with drugs, but Jonathan and I were both straight (song five). Not only that, but we both had awkward teenage relationship problems. I later heard that Richman was a teenager when he wrote those songs.
This is what I had been hoping for when my brother mentioned it. I'm still kinda hoping for this when my brother recommends a new band. Now that we're older and somewhat closer to music peers, I try to do the same thing for him."
Here is where we’d typically introduce Roofwalkers in our Wednesday ‘First Date’ feature, but seeing that we did so on Monday, we’re just going to dive in with Adrian Carroll’s tales of life abroad. On vinyl.
"When I was a college undergrad I lived abroad in Spain for a while. Lots of folks had painted living abroad as the best kicks of their life. But I didn't really find it to be. It was exciting and all that, and an important growing experience, but I found it pretty isolating and lonely at times.
I lived with an older divorced woman named Nieves. My room in the flat had once belonged to her son, and it was still furnished with much of his older belongings, including a turntable and his LP collection. There were nights when I could have probably attempted to be more social, at least with the other American students. But I figured I'd gone to Spain to learn a foreign language, not to hang out with other expats in Irish pubs. I was eager to meet natives, but the reality is that it takes a good bit of time to do that.
So on nights I didn't go out, I'd stay in and watch Spanish sitcoms with Nieves. And when the sitcoms ended, I'd retire to her son's former room and play records all night.
Her son's teenage years were in the 80s, and his record collection reflected that. I dug through them all--most of it was familiar top 40 stuff from the 80s. My top three were the first Dire Straits LP, Prince's "Purple Rain," and Sade's "Love Deluxe." I never thought I'd admit in public that I like Sade, but I gotta say it's good shit. A guilty pleasure perhaps.
And that Dire Straits LP--I still listen to it regularly. I'm sure it's about as uncool a record as you can cite as a favorite, but it is for me. Hands down, one of the best. For guitar dorks especially. "Six Blade Knife" slays every time. So on to the significance of vinyl with the whole thing. For me vinyl represents listening to music to listen to music--not to do the dishes, go running, or catch up on email. You sit there and open your ears for 20 odd minutes at a time, and then get up to flip the record. I still resist downloading music. I feel like the music I download ends up getting forgotten. If there's something I want to hear and really soak in, I'll go find it on vinyl."
Jeff from AM, Then FM returns with another dip into the '70's box of LPs:
Back in the '70s in our part of Wisconsin, beer was our regular vice, but we did sample other substances from time to time.
Likewise, rock was our regular sound, but we did sample other vibes from time to time.
"School Days," the 1976 album by jazz bassist Stanley Clarke was one such vibe.
I'm not all that knowledgeable about jazz, so let's just call this record the place where rock meets funk meets jazz. That will have to do.
I may not be able to deconstruct it, but I have long enjoyed it -- from the memorable three-note bass riff that opens "School Days" to the tribal-sounding percussion on "The Dancer" to the triple-guitar attack and funky horns on "Hot Fun."
TVD's special Story/Stereoevent in advance of Friday night's convergence of music and the written word at the Writer's Center in Bethesda continues with Roofwalker's drummer, Elmer Sharp with a flashback or three:
"As a kid in the 70s and early 80s, my dad played bass in a band nearly every weekend. The band was always in the garage practicing for shows and my sisters and I would go out and dance to songs from Booker T. & The MG's and Sly & The Family Stone.
I’m the one screaming on the left.
In high school I listened mostly to hip hop like Eric B. & Rakim, De La Soul, Jungle Brothers, Digable Planets. My dad got me a Pearl electronic drum kit. It was just like the one that the Rick Allen used to play in Def Leppard. I got my acoustic kit some time latter and started taking drum lessons. I pretty much horrified my instructor when I would bring RUN DMC tapes in say I want to learn to play this song. He would cringe and say "well… back to Welcome to the Jungle.”
I think because I was forced into playing songs I didn't appreciate at the time, I didn't really get into rock music until later when I started listening to bands like My Bloody Valentine, The Stone Roses, Slowdive and The Jesus and Mary Chain. Most of this music was a consequence of my friend Sean buying Going Blank Again by Ride for me from the local Sam Goody. What a great record. I got Nowhere following that and became totally hooked. Nowhere is still one of my favorite albums, and I have been a huge fan of shoegaze and experimental rock ever since.
Not too long following, I became a little distant from music, not really exploring new bands or even playing my own instrument. I went on a road trip to NY for New Years Eve in 2001 and was sitting around in a friend’s apartment. He put on Sigur Ros and it completely blew my mind. I remember very clearly listening to "Svefn-g-englar". The gentle drumming and soaring guitars fit my personality perfectly and brought everything back which I love about music. It’s something that's not forced upon you but very easily grabs you. It made me wonder what this was and what was being said. I ended up eventually finding English translations for the lyrics and found beautiful poetry in every word."
See, it's a blog. We're into words. And storytelling. And music. And a convergence of both is upon us...here all week at TVD (per usual) and uniquely this Friday at the Writer's Center in Bethesda.
Now, normally this is the part where we fill you in, but we thought we'd invite the event's curators, Chad from Beauty Pill and Matt from The Caribbean to offer some background on the event AND on the band, Roofwalkers, who've taken over TVD for the week with their words and music:
Story/Stereo is a modest cultural experiment in cross-media collaboration. Ugh. That sounds highfalutin. Scratch that. Story/Stereo is just a night of words & music.
The Writer's Center selected some excellent emerging poets, essayists, and novelists to read from recent works, we selected some excellent, interesting DC bands to play a set.
And we're all getting together to put on a show. Because, really, why not?
While there are some lofty precepts behind Story/Stereo, we'll spare you the ponderous discussion. Mainly we just kinda wanted to throw some musicians and writers in the same room and see what happens.
Our premise is that there are many parallels between good literature and good music.
Please do come. Let's find them together.
—Chad Clark & Matt Byars, musical curators, Story/Stereo
About Roofwalkers Roofwalkers music is difficult to describe, but certainly beautiful. With swooping, soaring guitars, delicate melodies, and an unforced, organic presentation, the music is nothing if not beautiful. Songs veer from languid/soothing to sinister/conspiratorial. People sometimes use the lazy descriptor "dreamy." And yes, it is that, but there is an undertow.
One of my favorite 'walkers song titles is "They Think They Own The Place." If this suggests to you that there is sometimes a social commentary component to the music, you would be right about that. While the sound is lovely and airborne, the content is often dark.
Roofwalkers has come to be one of the most admired bands by other DC area musicians. Any good musician knows how difficult it is to pull off this kind of elegant restraint. They're in the exciting transition from cognoscienti's-best-kept-secret to beloved-by-many.
We are honored to have them.
Kicking things off this week is Roofwalkers' Ben Licciardi (vocals/guitars):
Some of my favorite lyrics don’t look like much on paper. I love Neil Young’s album After the Gold Rush, and “Only Love Can Break Your Heart” is one of my favorites. The verses are disjointed flashes of childhood memories and musings on loneliness. The chorus goes: “Only love can break your heart, Try to be sure right from the start.” If you read the lyrics out loud, they probably won’t move you. But in Neil’s strained falsetto, over the stiff and lumbering rhythm section, it adds up to something deeply poignant. Most great music ends up being impossible to describe because it points to experiences that are essentially ineffable. This song has something to do with loss and vulnerability, but beyond that, I can’t explain why I like it so much.
Another song that sounds better in practice than on page is The Only One’s “The Whole of the Law.” I first heard this as a cover on Yo La Tengo’s album Painful, but I’ve grown to like the original—sax solo and all—best. If you’ve never heard the Only Ones, you should check them out. They were a late 70s English punk band, more in line with New Wave bands like Television and Heartbreakers than the Sex Pistols. “Whole of the Law” is a slower song and the lyrics are pretty run-of-the-mill love song fare (“I used to have the notion, I could swim the length of the ocean…”). The thing that kills me is the way lead singer Peter Perrett sings. He sounds downcast and lovelorn and almost slurs the words out. His bottomed-out delivery combined with drippy sentimentality of the lyrics come across as straight-from-the-heart. One line in particular always hits me: “I found out I was in love with you, I had to contact...” You have to hear it to get the full effect.
One last favorite: “Werewolf” by Michael Hurley off of the album Armchair Boogie. Sometimes, like in the above songs, a phrase is sung in a particular way and the words are imbued with new meaning. In “Werewolf,” the chorus has no words, it’s just Michael Hurley howling like a wolf. It’s a really high and lonesome whine. The lyrics in the verse are very simple, and it’s almost like their purpose is just to play support to the chorus--after you hear the song once, every time thereafter, you’re basically just waiting for the howling. I have this on an old, crackly vinyl record and it’s absolutely haunting."
I lieu of the traditional Friday 10, we've got a Friday 15 ...because I couldn't narrow it down any further. (Anyone think they know how this week's experiment shook out for me?)
We'll see you back here on Monday when TVD gets a bit ...literary.
"In its prime, San Francisco's Flipper was a magnificent, fascinating entity, playing what might have been typical hardcore music at an unsettlingly slow speed: like a 45 slowed down to sub-LP pace, a flawless impression of a downed-out hardcore band. The harsh music lumbers and creaks, oozing feedback all the way. Flipper could be your car on the verge of a total breakdown or your worst hangover nightmare amped up to brain-splitting volume..." to quote Trouser Press.
Find out for yourself in another TVD Vinyl Giveaway for the Last 33-1/3 Days of Summer! In recognition of Flipper's catalog being rereleased on 180 gram vinyl, we've got FOUR LPs to offer you this week: Generic Flipper, Public Flipper Limited, Gone Fishin’ and Sex Bomb Baby!
But that ain't all, as they say. We've got a Flipper t-shirt to toss into the mix and a signed poster by the entire band - which includes the John Hancock from the guy who used to play bass in Nirvana who joined—and left!—Flipper recently.
So, who loves you? We do.
Shout it out loud in the comments where we can hear you clearly, and the best and the brightest will find this Flipper prize package on their doorstep. This 33-1/3 Days of Summer Vinyl Giveaway ends next Monday (9/14) when we'll queue up yet another! Now, get to it!
(You’re supposed to read the type in the graphic with the mournful announcer’s voice: “...on a very special...TVD Pop Over...”)
I’d been reading whiteray’s excellent blog ‘Echoes in the Wind’ for a number of years now, reveling in his tales and tunes when suddenly last week—boom!—blog was ...gone? The whole thing. Just disappeared.
Uh, whiteray?
"It was kind of like turning on the television news and seeing a three-headed alien behind the desk saying “Good evening! I’m Gnirt Tkalch, and here’s the news tonight on Planet Zamzam.”
It was mid-afternoon on September 3. I’d clicked the link for my blog, Echoes In The Wind, and I got a page with the familiar orange Blogger logo and a message that said something like: No such blog exists. Of course it exists, I thought to myself; I just put a post up this morning! I clicked the link again and got the same thing.
After a moment of thought – during which I wondered if I’d actually ended up on Planet Zamzam – I went to my dashboard and found a notice from Blogger that said, “We've received another complaint on your blog(s), (Echoes In The Wind). Given that we've provided you with several warnings of these violations and advised you of our policy towards repeat infringers, we've been forced to remove your blog.”
I reviewed in my head: Let’s see, there were three notices last autumn, all in the same week. Then there was one in August. So, four warnings – I guess four is “several” – and now one more complaint that tipped the balance. There were also some posts during the past year – four or five – that disappeared from the blog without any explanation or notification. So call it nine complaints. Over a period of two years and eight months and a total of almost eight hundred posts.
I understand, in a way, Blogger’s position and the position of its parent company, Google. A complaint requires a response. What I don’t get is the unwillingness of much of the music industry to deal with individual bloggers (as well as the seeming point of view that it’s somehow bad to draw attention to performers and their music). I’d put a notice on the blog asking copyright holders to contact me if they objected; a couple did, and I happily removed those links and deleted the uploads within hours. Others, however, evidently complained. I say “evidently” because of the four emails I received specifying an offending post, three gave no information about the source of the complaint; I’m not sure in those cases whether the complaint came from someone with a genuine stake in the matter or from someone having malicious fun. (There are times I lean strongly toward the latter.) The source of the fourth complaint – the one I got in August – was identified: It was a singer-songwriter who had one Top 40 hit, in 1982, and has released one album since 1988. One would think any attention would be beneficial, but I guess not.
On top of all that, my blog was an odd target, as there are a thousand, maybe ten thousand blogs out there whose operators are sharing music that was released last week, last month, maybe yesterday. A good portion of what I shared is out of print, much of it was obscure, and the vast majority of it was at least thirty years old. As I wrote above, one would think any attention would be beneficial . . .
Well, I’ve moved on, and I’ve moved. You can find my new location in the links here at TVD.
Someone asked me how it felt. As usual, the best way to answer that is with music, and these titles tell the tale:"
Not to jump to too many premature conclusions with our 'fresh ears on New Wave' thesis this week, but ...uh. I had a hard time finding five more that were out and out crap. (And why make Spandau Ballet our whipping boys, right?)
So, five more freshly (re)picked from a fine vine.
A couple of months back I had concocted an entirely bizarre theme week: music I LOATHE. The gouge-out-your-eyes type of hatred normally reserved for your Korns, Counting Crows, Blick 182s, Nicklebacks, REMs ...well, you get the point. And this list grew very, very long to the point where I almost had a theme MONTH.
But cooler heads prevailed. ‘Nah...’ I thought the morning after this masterstroke...we’re about promoting positivity here at TVD. “Why foist crap music on the public at large?” So that theme week was relegated to the TVDustbin.
To put it mildly then today, I’m no fan of these five tracks selected to balance and give weight to a thesis whose premise I even find suspect: New Wave/Fresh Ears.
These five would have me running for the hills. Eyes all gouged out.
Most likely in a testament to some personal fortitude, I often find that I can look back on horrible experiences or times of duress...with some fondness. 
